This morning, I cut apart a slinky. it was my neon rainbow slinky. I don't remember where or when I got. And true, it wasn't a prized posession. But it was a pretty cool toy. Not everyone had a rainbow slinky.

I was (and would still like to be) a selective toy-sharer. I never had problems when my friends came over. My toys were their toys when we frolicked together in the land of make-believe. I'm sure I had my favorite doll or whatever, but it was usually no-holds-barred playing.

Sharing with my family, on the other hand, is a whole different toy-sharing issue. I always hated our family hosting Thanksgiving ... because people would get into my stuff. And read: when I say "get into" that would always lead to BREAK or LOSE. Note that it wasn't a vendetta against me ... they were like that with everyone's toys. Was I? I duuno. And if I was, cousins, I apologize.

My family, when playing with other people's stuff, is careless, thoughtless, crude and just plain reckless. With this approach, breakage is inevitable. Then they leave the scene of the crime and hope no one notices until everyone is gone.

Games are missing pieces, my Clue game was destroyed (still mad at this), red clay was ground into the *NEW* carpet in the hallway and Barbie doll room, along with many spilled pops and left to their own devices ... Jason and Michael made the wall full of hundreds of tiny holes b/c I didn't supervise them when they were playing darts. My god, I told them to becareful since it was just on the wall ... they were 10 or so, that was a huge mistake.

We figured out a system to combat the toy breakage. Anything in the patio was free range. Barbie doll room was only if I was there and anything of value in my room was put away before the family gathering.

And to put the destruction of my family into perspective for you, I'll map out the disrespect ... My cousin Sara and I were playing with my barbies ... okay so far, so good. She has my new ken doll with the brown hair (rare in those days) and she breaks the head off. It's kind of scary/impressive the detail I remember this in. My eyes got wide, I was shocked....that was my newest doll! She shrugs her shoulders, and shoves the head back on ... (and if you played with barbies at all, you'll know that the shove method rarely fixes it for a long period of time).

She didn't blink an eye, say she was sorry or show any remorse or concern for destroying my toy. This should have been a lesson to me. After all, they say we live as we once played. Nonetheless, tangent adverted ....

Somehow the rules stopped being in effect ... I think it was when I moved to Green Bay. Suddenly anyone could play with my Barbies.

Okay, this sounds silly, trival and something a 22-year-old shouldn't be concerned with ... but I had a substancial Barbie collection... full kitcehen set, grocery store, food, entertainment center, bathtub, nursery and master bedroom. Not to mention the three story house with real carpet, vinal floor and wallpaper. This was something I was going to cherish and give to my children. This was my childhood.

Now little kids are playing with my barbies ... four year olds ... losing things, wrecking things, destroying their beautiful hair ...

Any little kids .. who's not even related just wanders back to the room and starts playing .. without asking! GODDAMMIT STAY OUT OF MY BARBIE DOLL ROOM!

After Jan Carl's little terror wrecked some stuff, mom put away most of clothes, dolls and all the little things. Good.

But really .. it's hard to be the bitch who says you can't play in there ... so I guess I just need to keep putting things away (brief break to put away the two best dolls and more little items).

Now, my nieces are respectful. I love Erika (Happy Birthday, btw), sighing when she walks in and sees a mess. Before she does anything else, she straightens everything out, arranges the furniture nicely, and puts away the little things. Courtney is like that too. They can play. They are welcome to play. Because they aren't going to break anything! They realize .. somehow .. that what they are playing with is special. Joannie's Ashley is the same.

So I sit here, looking at the three barely useable slinky segments. And where was the slinky? Shoved on the top of the house, by one little devil, hoping no one would notice the kinks in the coil that makes the toy un-slinkable.